Poetry

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We all stand as sinner,
Sinning most our lives.
What will become of us,
Staggered off the lines.

We can never face Him,
We are never right.
No way to be good ourselves,
Fading into night.

We stand in filthy rags,
Lower than a mouse.
Banned from the chamber,
Restricted from His house.

What are we to do,
Sin nature is the norm.
Lost in wretched hatred,
Dying in the storm.

Now thank God for Jesus,
Who gave it up for me.
Paid for all my sins,
By hanging from a tree.

Thru Him God will see us,
Pure in every way.
He will do the talking,
I have no more to say.

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